


Warming Up

by elennalore



Series: Second Chances [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Implied Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Redemption, Sauna, Second Chances, Talking, fourth age valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennalore/pseuds/elennalore
Summary: Aulë wants to have a talk with Mairon, so he invites him to the sauna.
Relationships: Aulë | Mahal & Sauron | Mairon
Series: Second Chances [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086146
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	Warming Up

**Author's Note:**

> This fic continues Mairon's story after the events of [Walk Through the Darkest Valley](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26441815/chapters/64422601), but it can be read as a one-shot. Some notes about the setting: it's post-canon (post-LotR), and Mairon is placed under house arrest at Aulë's Halls. Curumo is present there as a little boy who doesn't seem to remember his past.
> 
> The sauna customs in this fic are based on Finnish sauna culture.

Mairon sits on the roof and bathes in the sun. Dark slate roof tiles feel warm under his body, the rays of the sun tease him with the idea of chasing them. He closes his eyes, resisting the urge to shift shape, to fly. Last time it didn’t end well. Aulë had to do a lot of healing work before he was back in his preferred shape. There’s something wrong with his powers, and it worries him. It’s not only because of the ankle band he has to wear all the time. Even before Aulë bound him with his Song, even before the chains of the Valar were put on him, he knew something was amiss. Since the destruction of the One Ring he hasn’t been quite himself.

_Not quite myself? Who am I, then?_

He sighs and stretches himself. No more gloomy thoughts today! Hasn’t he climbed up onto the roof to get rid of them? Ah, the pleasure of sunbathing – he hadn’t guessed it would give him so much pleasure until he found his way on the roof of Aulë’s mansion one day.

The best thing about the place is that no one disturbs him there. Nor does he disturb anyone.

Besides, there’s usually nothing much to be done in the daytime. He can’t go to the forges while the elves are working there. It goes without saying that he can’t walk around. That would only make the elves nervous and scared. Thus, he mainly stays in his rooms – or nowadays, in a sunny weather, he climbs up the ladder beside his window and sits on the roof.

It’s frustrating, really. Will he ever get used to being so idle? Thankfully, at night-time Aulë lets him go to one of the forges and work there. The elves know the avoid the place when the night has fallen. Sometimes Aulë visits him there, and it’s almost like old times again. Almost. He has mostly lost his creative spirit, and the work doesn’t feel as enjoyable as before, but it’s nice to get out of his rooms for a change, so it doesn’t really matter in the end.

He leans against the chimney and takes the book he has been reading before he got distracted by the sun. _The Annals of Aman._ Curumo brought him a copy of the annals from Aulë’s library when he asked for some light reading. Perhaps not as light as he would have preferred, but his interest is awakened when he finds entries about his Master. Melkor never talked much about his time in Valinor, but here is a written account of those days. Written by the elves of course, so Melkor’s deeds are described in bitter and cruel words, the truth distorted. Or perhaps not? He knows himself that the time in Aman changed his Master bitter and cruel. Three ages in the Halls of Mandos would do that to anyone, especially to one of the Ainur who aren’t meant to be dead. Mairon feels suddenly cold despite the warmth of the sun. He knows he’s lucky to have avoided his Master’s fate.

It vexes him to be so dependent on Curumo, but he’s the only one who isn’t afraid of him. (He should be!) The boy is always hanging around despite Aulë’s promise that Curumo would leave him alone. Well, he’d better do something useful, then. The boy now runs errands for him; a book from library, special gems that are needed for the leisured goldsmith craft he practises in his rooms, oats from the kitchens to feed his crows. During the time Mairon has stayed at Aulë’s mansion Curumo hasn’t changed at all. He is still looking like an elfling. If he were a normal child, he should have grown a bit already, but he hasn’t. Whenever Mairon tells him stories about Mordor, he listens hungrily but never says anything. Curumo only stares at him with those huge dark eyes, never even admitting that there once existed a fierce rivalry for supremacy between them. It’s irritating.

Just as he opens _The Annals of Aman_ again, eager to read more about Fëanor whom he likes, he suddenly feels that Aulë is somewhere close to him. Soon, Aulë’s round, bearded face peeks out from behind the edge of the roof.

“Good afternoon, Mairon. So you are here! How are you?”

“I’m good.”

It is curious that Aulë has come there. Aulë doesn’t usually seek his company, especially not in the daytime when he is busy with his craft and students and everything else. Now Aulë is looking around like he was only now learning about this secluded spot on the roof of his mansion.

“What a nice place you have found. What are you doing up here?”

“I’m reading,” he says, showing Aulë the book. If Aulë wonders where he got it from, he doesn’t say.

Aulë climbs the rest of the ladder up and comes to sit down beside Mairon, slightly panting still. “Whoa, I’m not used to climbing. I’m happier on the ground, or even underground. But you must like it here?”

“It’s warm and sunny. And I like being alone. It’s peaceful here.”

“Until I came to disturb your peace, you mean!” Aulë laughs heartily. They sit together for a while, admiring the view. Or Aulë is admiring it, at least. Yavanna’s gardens lie in front of them, and Mairon is not used to their abundant greenery, but that’s the view from the sunny side of the roof so it can’t be helped. Aulë shows him various trees and tells him a little story about lesser Maiar who live in those trees. Mairon isn’t really interested, the tree-spirits make him uncomfortable, but he listens politely.

“Actually, I came here to ask you something. I’m going to warm the sauna tonight. Would you like to join me?”

Aulë’s question surprises him. Sauna was one of Aulë’s earliest inventions in Almaren, and he has missed it. After a hard workday at the forge, nothing was more delightful than to relax in the hot sauna. He had tried to build something similar in Angband, of course, but it was never the same. Later, he had truly enjoyed the dwarvish-inspired bathhouses of Ost-in-Edhil, but there was always something lacking there that only Aulë’s creation had, the special spirit of sauna.

But Mairon knows it’s impossible, and with a heavy heart he tells Aulë that. The elves won’t endure his presence in the public areas, and he doesn’t want to cause a scene. He is worried that taking him back has already cost Aulë some loss of respect; Curumo has told him that some of the elves are suddenly leaving Aulë’s service, and Mairon can see why.

“It won’t be a public session,” Aulë answers to him. “Just me... and you, if you want. You might see some Maiar or elves on your way there, but it’s all right. You have a right to walk around my lands as long as your behaviour doesn’t disturb others. I think it’s high time they get used to the idea of you living here.”

Aulë is too idealistic. Hasn’t he seen how the elves are eyeing Mairon when he walks past them? Many of them haven’t even been in Middle-earth, but they all seem to be familiar with his atrocious acts. At any rate, his association with Melkor fills them with hatred. Sometimes Mairon wonders if Aulë himself has been dozing off while Manwë made the Valar see Mairon’s past wrongdoing. He sometimes seems to behave as if Mairon never left his side.

But Aulë doesn’t see it as a problem, and going to sauna with him suddenly feels such an intriguing possibility, nostalgic even. Therefore, Mairon accepts the invitation.

* * * * *

The sauna is on the other side of Aulë’s large courtyard, behind the forges and near a small brook that marks the border which Mairon is not allowed to cross. He sees three elves and one Maia on his way there.

The first elf frowns at him as he passes by. It’s not dark yet, and there’s an unwritten law that Mairon should not go out before night is falling. The second elf freezes when he sees him. Mairon flashes him a weak smile and the elf winces and hurries away. The third elf just stares at him. She’s a proud Noldo who wears an abundance of jewellery, she’s tall and bright-eyed and looks hardened in a way that hints she has lived in Middle-earth once. The light in her eyes reflects the light of old Aman. She is probably very old. She reminds him of Celebrimbor all of a sudden.

She steps forward and spits in his face. “Sauron!” she hisses at him, raising her fists. Is she going to attack? Mairon tenses, he wants to push her away but knows better than to touch her. Her spit runs down his cheek, and angrily Mairon brushes it away.

“Don’t touch me, monster,” she warns him.

“I won’t.” He’d better leave now.

“You don’t deserve to be here!” Other people are gathering to watch the scene now, but thankfully no one else dares to come near. She points at him with her finger and shouts: “I saw what you did to Celebrimbor!”

 _Oh, great_ , he thinks, or says aloud, he’s not sure any more. He turns and starts to walk away, hoping that the Noldo doesn’t attack him from behind. He’s not sure if Aulë considers it as self-defence if he fights back.

Suddenly a small hand touches his own hand, startling him, but it’s just Curumo.

“Come, Aulë is waiting for you,” the boy-Maia says and for once Mairon is happy to see him. Curumo leads him steadily away from the gathering of angry elves. He almost thanks him until he remembers who the little boy really is.

The sauna house is a simple wooden hut, its facade decorated with elegant wooden carvings. There’s a nice patio outside the sauna, and moreover, a large hot tub meant for bathing. Aulë is currently busy carrying water from the nearby brook and filling the tub. His eyes brighten at the sight of Mairon and Curumo.

“Good, you are here already! I wonder if you could lend me a hand and help to tend the fire in the stove?”

Mairon has been just about to tell Aulë that he almost got lynched on his way there, but he decides he doesn’t want to spoil Aulë’s good mood. He follows Aulë inside, through the dressing room and bathroom until they reach the hot room where there’s a large stove with a lot of stones on it. The room is not quite hot yet, but the fire is lit in the stove. Aulë points at it.

“As you can see, my fire is not very effective. It would take a long time to get the sauna warm this way. But I’m certain you can help and speed things up a bit. You have much more fire in your essence.”

“What should I do?” Mairon looks inside the stove. The fire that burns there is a magical one, it doesn’t need wood or coal or anything really to burn. But it’s rather weak, and he already knows he can make it stronger. He focuses his mind and the flames inside the stove grow higher.

“I see you already got the idea!” Aulë exclaims, delighted. “You don’t have to stay here all the time, just check regularly that the fire doesn’t die out. You can sit on a patio in the meantime, it’s a nice evening there. There are some cold drinks in a basket in the brook, feel free to take a bottle.”

Aulë goes back carrying water, the tub is huge and not quickly filled. Mairon finds Curumo staring at him, like waiting for orders.

 _I don’t need you here_ , he would like to say, but then he remembers that Curumo just helped him out of that nasty situation out there, and decides against it.

“I have a special task for you,” he says instead, and when he has explained it Curumo hurries happily away, leaving him finally alone, staring into fire. He enjoys watching the dance of the flames, their ever-changing chaotic patterns.

* * * * *

“I think the sauna is ready now,” Aulë announces as he comes outside. Mairon sits on the patio, enjoying root beer Aulë has given him. The stars have just started to appear in the sky, it’s a nice, warm evening without much wind.

“You put a good fire in there,” Aulë continues. “I didn’t remember there was so much fire in you.” He falls silent, probably thinking of all those fire Maiar who followed Melkor, and if Mairon was so different from them in the end.

“I think I was more affiliated with air in the beginning,” Mairon admits. “The fire came later, when we already were in Arda.”

They are in the dressing room now, taking their clothes off. There’s nothing sexual in the act; Aulë is something like a father for him. However, Mairon feels suddenly hesitant. His current body bears some scars he hasn’t been able to cure, or perhaps hasn’t wanted to. He wonders if Aulë may find them repulsive. In the end he gets rid of his shirt, it would be stupid to turn away now. The ankle band has to stay, he can’t take it off. He feels Aulë’s eyes lingering on the scars on his back, but thankfully Aulë doesn’t say anything. They wash themselves quickly with cold water before entering the hot room.

“Mmm, it’s nice,” Mairon says as they sit on the highest bench and Aulë throws water on the hot stones. The hot air makes him hunch his shoulders, oh how he enjoys this feeling.

Just then the door opens and Curumo’s thin face peeks into the sauna, framed in birch twigs and leaves he carries with him.

“Shut the door, Curumo! The heat is running out.” Prompted by his command, Curumo slips inside and quickly sits down on the lower bench.

Secretly, Mairon is happy to see the little Maia with a bunch of birch branches. He hasn’t been sure if Curumo was up to the task, but it looks like he has underestimated him.

Aulë throws more water on the stones of the stove, but he is slightly frowning now, and not because of the heat.

“What is this new mischief? Have you been cutting branches from Yavanna’s trees?” Aulë speaks only to Mairon, it is obvious to him whose idea it was.

“It was meant to be a nice surprise!” Mairon exclaims. “It’s only a couple of branches, it’s not like Curumo cut down the trees or something.”

“I bet it wasn’t Curumo’s idea, though.”

“No, of course not! But I couldn’t go and get the branches myself, you know, that area is out-of-bounds for me. But wait, you will like this! You can use the birch branches as a whisk to beat yourself lightly in the sauna. It’s very refreshing. I learned this when I lived in Eregion; it’s originally a Dwarvish custom.”

“My wife’s gonna kill me,” Aulë mutters, but Mairon can see the light twinkling in his eyes at the mention of Dwarvish customs, and he relaxes again. (Was it really a Dwarvish custom? He isn’t sure, but it could very well have been, Ost-in-Edhil was such a melting pot of traditions.)

And sure, Aulë gives him a weak smile and takes the birch whisk from Curumo, studying it now with genuine interest. “I guess there’s no point in crying over spilled milk. How should I use this?”

Mairon shows him; the fragrance of birch leaves fills the air, reminding him of summers in the mountains of Eregion. The air is hot and humid, and there are little droplets of sweat on Aulë’s forehead. Mairon leans against the wooden back wall and closes his eyes. There’s no need to talk. At some point Curumo leaves them alone; he doesn’t like the warmth like they do.

* * * * *

They come outside to cool off after a while. Aulë has brought cold beer from his stock, and now they both sit in the hot tub, sipping beer from the bottle. Warm water feels so good for his stiff muscles, Mairon thinks. He should do this more often.

And then Aulë suddenly asks: “Why did you go with him?” _Him._ He means Melkor. His intense eyes look at Mairon, not accusing. It looks like he really wants to know.

“Oh, Aulë, that’s a big question.” He sits on the bench in the tub and hugs his knees although he doesn’t feel cold. Just a bit lonely.

“It’s okay for me if you don’t want to talk about it,” Aulë hastens to add. “I’m just wondering... when did it happen? When was the turning point?” He doesn’t use the word _seduction_ although Mairon is sure that many of the Ainur see it that way. Probably Aulë, too.

Mairon remembers something, and he laughs. “You know, I almost went with Manwë when we first entered the Eä. I was happy to fly with the spirits of air, it gave me a sense of enormous freedom. To be honest, Melkor’s music scared and confused me first, and I was drawn to Manwë because I felt he’s the only one who could oppose the chaos that it created.”

Aulë raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. Mairon continues: “But then I heard the echoes of your Song, and that made me wholly forget Melkor – for some time, at least. I said goodbye to my spirit-friend who was to become Eönwë, and hurried to join you. Your Song was about creation and craft; how could I have resisted something like that?”

Aulë gives him a sad smile. “I don’t remember you telling me this before.”

“We were always so busy in the beginning. And later... I closed my heart, I guess.” He shivers, the night feels suddenly cold and the water in the tub has cooled down already. “Let’s go back to the sauna, shall we?”

In the hot sauna room, Mairon takes the ladle from the water bucket and throws more water on the hot stones. The fire he has created hasn’t died out yet. Soon, Aulë is sweating and Mairon feels comfortable again. He is not sure if Aulë has expected him to tell more, but he feels like talking, so he continues.

“It was only just before the destruction of the Lamps that I met him again. I had been searching for the source of that strange music that had returned, and finally I found him.”

He falls silent, yearning for those days that are so utterly gone now.

“And?” Aulë says, twiddling the birch whisk in his hands.

Mairon sighs. “And I realized that I don’t fear him any more. On the contrary. After that, I was only waiting for an opportunity to leave. When the Lamps were destroyed and the darkness fell over Arda, I knew the moment I had been waiting for had come.”

There’s another long silence, and suddenly Mairon feels the need to add: “It wasn’t because of you. You were always good to me, and I was happy to serve you. It was just that... Melkor was so much more.”

“More twisted, at least,” Aulë grunts and Mairon can see the fleeting anger in his eyes, but then it’s gone, and Aulë continues more softly: “What you describe sounds a lot like what the incarnates call love. Some Maiar can feel it as well.”

He doesn’t want to talk about love, so he begins to throw more and more water on the hot stones. The hissing of vaporising water fills the room, waves of hot air hit them like a whip, making Aulë bend forward, his face covered in his hands.

“I think I’ll take a little break,” Aulë says after Mairon has emptied almost the whole bucketful of water on the stones. He all but flees the sauna, taking the bucket with him to be refilled, leaving Mairon alone. He refuses to leave. Hot is his preferred state of being.

Aulë is away for a long time, and Mairon has just started to wonder if he has left altogether, but then the door opens and he’s back with a new bucketful of water. Mairon is lying on his back on the highest bench, his knees bent and feet touching the wood. He’s too lazy to get up, so he only turns to watch as Aulë climbs up and sits next to him, close to his bent legs.

Aulë’s hand touches his ankle band, testing it, but he quickly pulls it back. “It’s hot!” he exclaims.

“Of course it’s hot, it’s metal and we’re in a sauna,” Mairon mutters. It’s odd how easily he has got used to its constant presence. He can’t resist adding: “You can always take it off if it bothers you.”

“Does it burn you?” Aulë looks worried and a bit guilty, too.

“No, it doesn’t. I am very resistant to heat nowadays. It doesn’t hurt me much, this chain of yours.”

Aulë clearly doesn’t like to be reminded that he’s the jailer and Mairon is the prisoner in his Halls, and Mairon doesn’t want to push him into feeling more guilty than he already feels. He sits up, reaching for the bucket of water. Aulë doesn’t let him take it at first.

“Only if you behave and don’t throw it all on the stones at the same time. That way, the sauna becomes too hot for those of us who are not spirits of fire.”

“I’m not one of those, really, I’ve just made myself resistant.” But he respects Aulë’s wish and ladles only a small amount of water on the stones. Mild it’ll be then.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so resistant.” Aulë’s words are sharp in a way the Valar sometimes talk, but his voice is not unkind. Mairon is startled by his comment, though he is not sure why.

“What do you mean?”

Aule’s eyes meet his; he doesn’t turn away. “Sometimes it is better to be able to feel more,” Aulë says slowly, weighing his words carefully. “If you cut yourself from unbearable pain, it may be harder to relate to those who are not able to do so.”

Mairon doesn’t answer at first. Images that he has tried to suppress come back to his mind, spurred by Aulë’s words. Why does Aulë talk like that? It should have been a relaxing evening! But Aulë’s eyes are not judging, nor his voice is angry.

“It is said that compared to us Valar, you Maiar are closer to the incarnates in this regard. You have a better possibility to become true beings of Arda. You can feel the pain of body and mind if you just allow yourselves experience it. It’s a state of being and a state of mind the Valar never really can achieve, and we envy you because of that.”

“You are envious of us being more elflike?” Mairon doesn’t understand it. Elves are weak, they can be broken.

“Capable of feeling the pain,” Aulë confirms. “And capable of feeling love. Those two go hand in hand.”

Mairon takes the ladle and soon some more water vaporizes on the stones. He wants to change the subject. “Can you whisk my back?”

Aulë takes the bundle of birch twigs in his hand, and Mairon turns his back towards him, but Aulë hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, that’s the whole point of it! I can’t very well reach my own back! Go on, it’s not going to hurt. Not even if I had a skin of an elf!”

Soon, the birch twigs touch Mairon’s back, again and again, and he enjoys the stimulating feeling while it lasts. “Thank you,” he says when Aulë has stopped. “It’s so relaxing.”

But Aulë is oddly silent, something is still bothering him.

“What is it?” Mairon asks at last. Some birch leaves have fallen from the twigs and adhered to his skin, he takes one of the leaves and absent-mindedly plays with it.

“Your back – he maltreated you, didn’t he?”

Mairon has totally forgotten about the scars. What can he say, how can he even start to explain? “It’s complicated.”

“For me, it seems very clear. Someone has hurt you. Those are marks of a cruel Vala, they don’t fade.”

“I don’t want them to fade,” Mairon says. “They are a part of who I am. With him, I was able to feel those feelings you so highly regard; pain and yes, perhaps even love.” He speaks boldly now, but he doesn’t stand the pity in Aulë’s eyes, there’s no need for that.

Aule is silent for a long time. Mairon closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth, trying not to think that he has made Aulë feel uncomfortable again. But then Aulë’s fingers are gently touching his chin, caressing him.

“I’m sorry, Mairon,” he says. “I see that he means a lot to you still. I can’t say I understand it, but I don’t want to blame you for your former choices.”

“You know that I would go back to him if I could. Although I kind of like it here,” Mairon quickly adds, knowing too well that his words must sound ungrateful to Aulë.

“Perhaps if you could learn to not to fear your feelings...” Aulë ponders aloud. “Perhaps if you could learn the true nature of love and pain? It’s not totally uncommon for the Maiar. Think of Melian, for example. She even bore a child...”

“What, do you want me to bear a child?” Mairon exclaims. To be honest, the absurd idea amuses him greatly, and he can’t help thinking that Celebrimbor would have liked it once.

“No, of course not,” Aulë hastily says. “What I mean is that sometimes the Maiar can be more elflike, and that could help you feel more at home in your body and in your soul. But it’s just a suggestion, you know yourself what’s best to you.”

“I’m all right,” Mairon mutters, hugging his knees and enjoying the warmth of the sauna. “I don’t need to be more elflike.”

Aulë looks like he would like to object, but he only says: “Have you been in contact with your friend Tyelperinquar?”

There’s a strange heaviness of heart he’s suddenly feeling. “No, I haven’t heard of him since... since I came here.”

Mairon has been thinking of writing to Tyelpë, but it’s impossible. He doesn’t know what to write, he has no words for what he’d like to say.

“I think it would do you good if you spent more time with elves.”

Mairon can’t help it now, he bursts out laughing, a weak, helpless laugh he has no means to contain. He lets the laughter come out, breathless. Aulë’s suggestion is absurd. But it feels so good to be able to laugh again. Aulë’s nonplussed expression finally sobers him.

“No, Aulë,” he says when he is able to speak again. “It wouldn’t do me any good. The elves hate me, they only want revenge. And perhaps I deserve it, but I’m not masochistic enough to seek their company for that.” Aulë is full of naive idealism. He wasn’t in Middle-earth, he doesn’t know how the things were there. But then, Mairon would probably be imprisoned in Mandos without Aulë’s idealistic beliefs about redemption and second chances.

All right, Mairon decides. Perhaps he can still play along with Aulë’s idealistic ideas, he deserves it.

“If you find someone who can stand my company, I’ll be there. I just hope it won’t end with my body mutilated.” He gives an encouraging smile to Aulë, and the Vala’s expression oddly brightens as he hears his words.

They leave the sauna soon thereafter. Varda’s stars twinkle in the sky as they sit on the patio, cooling down and enjoying the silence of the night. Somewhere in the sky, beyond his sight, Eärendil is watching the Door of Night. But he doesn’t want to think about that now. It’s almost like he was Aulë’s Maia again. For now, it is good enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I decided to continue this series with a couple of Mairon-centric one-shots that are loosely connected. Celebrimbor is there in the background, but there will be someone else Mairon meets next...


End file.
